Almost Human
by Bryher
Summary: Pilot for a new story.


**Title**: Almost Human

**Rating**: T

**Author's Note**: I've never written a Covenant fiction before. So this is a sort of trailer. I'm testing the water to see how my 'kind' of fiction would be received, and I'm eager to know your thoughts.

As I've said, this is a sort of trailer for a story; if I do decide to write it, then this chapter will be included in the main story, but probably as a longer piece. Hope you like it!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Covenant, or any of its characters.

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'Why've you gotta piss him off, Reid?' Pogue asked, leaning against the corrugated metal. 'You know Caleb's been under a load of stress with Sarah, and-'

'Save it, Pogue,' the blonde snapped, stamping his cigarette out underfoot. 'He just pisses me off with his exalted leader act. Trouble with his girl or not, he can't just push Tyler around like we're all seventeen again. It's been four years, man. And he still doesn't get it.'

Pogue sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. 'He's worried, Reid.'

'About addiction?' Reid countered, cheekbones razor-sharp in the light from the warehouse. 'About leadership? Fuck, Pogue- he's got us snooping around warehouses looking for imaginary witches while he lectures Tyler on the importance of abstaining. There _are_ no witches. Only us.'

'But what if there are…_others_ out there,' Pogue pressed. 'If Caleb's right- _if_, Reid,' he added quickly as the younger man shot him a look, 'then it means that we have to be more careful than ever. We might not be able to fight someone stronger than us. Abstaining might help us…' he hesitated, mouth twisting around the last word as though it was disgusting, _'hide.'_

'I don' fink abstainin' is a good fing,' a voice hissed from the entrance to the alley. A figure began to advance, limping. 'I fink you boys should defin'tly not abstain.'

The pair shot a look at one another, expressions disgusted. 'Look, we don't have any money, so just go on your way,' Reid snapped rudely. 'Who said any'fin about money? You boys can have me for free,' the woman giggled. The laugh was wet, gurgling. Pogue frowned at the sound, fingers reaching out to rest lightly on Reid's arm. 'Reid, man,' he whispered uncertainly. The woman stumbled into the light, and the beam hit her features.

Reid and Pogue jumped backward, away from the woman. She grinned at them horribly, face grey and decaying. 'Goin' somewhere?' she giggled, pushing the heavy coat from her shoulders. Pogue swore, stumbling back as bits of sloughed skin fell to the ground alongside the coat. 'Don' be shy, boys,' the woman hissed, limping forward, the foul smell of rotting flesh creeping over the air to invade the noses of both men. 'I don' bite. Unless you pay me extra.'

'What the hell?' Reid yelped, 'Pogue?'

'I don't know, Reid,' he replied, uncertainty written all over his face. The woman lurched toward them, as if she were drunk. As she stumped into the light, Reid saw that one foot was missing, the white bone of her tibia visible at the stump, rotted flesh trailing along the ground in strings.

Pogue lifted his hands, eyes turning black. The woman tilted her head, hair falling to one side to reveal a hole in her cheek, teeth shining through in the gloom. 'Warlock?' she hissed, air whistling through the gap. Reid lifted his hands beside Pogue's, his own eyes inky. The woman frowned. '_Two_ warlocks?'

'Excuse me?' a clipped British accent asked. The woman turned awkwardly. A young woman stood in the light of the open warehouse door. 'Ah,' she said, spotting the trio. 'Good.'

The deformed woman snarled uneasily. Reid and Pogue looked at one another, confusion clearly written on both men's faces.

The stranger had advanced into the alleyway. 'You _are_ Emily Tremain, aren't you?' The accent was clear, voice politely inquisitive rather than frightened or unsure. She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket, examining it. 'Emily Tremain, born on the twenty-seventh of October 1893 and died on the fourteenth of November 1951? You worked as a prostitute?'

'A girly girl,' the deformed woman sang, head swivelling between Reid, Pogue and the new woman. 'Good for vitality.'

'I'm afraid not,' the young woman replied in a neutral voice. 'I've never really found zombies to be very accommodating of my species.'

The zombie launched herself at the young woman, who merely stepped back as the zombie convulsed mid-air, a gurgled scream erupting into the air as she smoked, burst into flames and disintegrated.

'Jaime,' the young woman called warningly into the darkness. Reid and Pogue spun, power vanishing in the break of concentration as a clatter of dustbins arose from directly behind them. A tall, beautiful redhead pushed herself to her feet. 'Sorry,' she muttered in an Irish lilt. 'I know I was takin' me time. At leas' we know we got the right whore.'

'Are you alright?' the redhead asked, gaze going from Pogue to Reid and back again. She frowned, repeating the question. Reid merely gaped, confusion, shock and incomprehension written all over his face. Pogue, whose face mirrored his friend's, nodded numbly, staring at the women.

'Sorry about that,' Jaime said with a grin. 'She was an accident- we ran into trouble with a necromancer not far from here.' She held out her hand, Pogue took it automatically, shaking the slender limb dazedly. 'I'm Jaime, and that's Riley,' she chattered, moving in between the two men, both of whom raised their hands, eyes blackened as shock wore off.

'Hey,' Jaime barked with a frown. 'We jus' saved your arses.'

Pogue brought the ball of energy back into the space between his hands. 'Who are you?' he snarled, Reid's own ball of power spreading into the air beside him.

'We just told you,' the British woman said slowly, coming into the light of the streetlight. She was tiny, blonde and currently wearing a bemused expression. 'I'm Riley, and this is Jaime.'

'_What_ are you?' Reid elaborated, eyes narrowed. Jaime stepped forward, eyes flashing. 'Now you're jus' bein' rude,' she snapped. 'We're half-demons, warlock. You miss out on magic school?'

The blonde woman- Riley, stuck out her hand to halt the taller woman. 'They don't know,' she said softly, surprise in her voice. 'Don't know what?' her companion snarled, still glaring at the black-eyed men. 'Manners?'

'About everyone,' the smaller woman replied, still talking quietly. She stepped further into the light, in front of Pogue. Her eyes were thoughtful. 'They don't know, Jaime.'

Jaime snorted, folding her arms over her chest. 'Impossible.'

Riley lifted her chin slightly, ignoring the power balls that were aimed directly at her. 'Apparently not,' she murmured.

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